


Flowers Bloom, Even Then

by Drogna



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: F/M, Hanahaki Disease, Hurt/Comfort, RipFic, TimeShip, Timeship Week 2019, philosophical musings on the nature of AI consciousness and freewill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-21
Updated: 2019-08-21
Packaged: 2020-09-23 07:17:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20336251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Drogna/pseuds/Drogna
Summary: Rip should have known that nothing good could come of helping John Constantine to hunt down a vengeful ghost in feudal Japan. However he hadn't expected it to lead to a curse which revealed his love for Gideon with deadly flower petals.Quite simply, Gideon was killing him because Rip had fallen for an AI who could never love him back.





	Flowers Bloom, Even Then

_A world of grief and pain_  
_Flowers bloom  
_ _Even then_

― Kobayashi Issa

* * *

Rip should have known that nothing good could come of helping John Constantine to hunt down a vengeful ghost in feudal Japan, but occasionally his missions with the exorcist didn’t turn out horribly. The last time they’d met, John had managed to deal with a particularly nasty Time Pirate who had inadvertently ended up dabbling in the occult. Some very bad things had happened that day, and John’s help had been invaluable. Other times things had gone less well, and of course this was one of them.

“I’m trying to save a life,” said John, as he paced around the parlour, drinking Rip’s good whisky.

Rip was leaning against the door frame and watching his rather agitated friend. John hadn’t given him a lot of information, and that usually meant that he was up to something.

“As are we all,” said Rip. “Normally you’re very enthusiastic about tackling such problems alone.”

“I don’t normally need to travel back in time,” replied John. “And honestly, you owe me a favour after that Ur thing.”

“Ur thing?” asked Sara.

“Just a small spot of bother that Rip found himself in with an ancient artefact and a Time Pirate,” said John. “I helped him out.”

“The Game of Ur turned out to be a prison for a Mesopotamian demon,” Rip explain, for Sara’s benefit. “I wasn’t aware that we were trading favours. Admittedly, you were some help,” he added grudgingly.

John shrugged.

“We’re between missions,” said Sara, “we’ve got time to help out a friend.” She sidled over to Rip and spoke more quietly, so that only he could hear. “And it might be useful to have Constantine owing us a favour.”

Rip met her eyes. This was against his better judgement.

“Fine, we’ll help,” said Rip. “Tell us what you know.”

“It’s your basic Japanese revenge ghost haunting,” said John.

“Okay, that might mean something to you, but I’m going to need a bit more to go on,” said Sara.

“I assume that John is referring to the _mononoke_, or vengeful spirits. Specifically, _shiry__ō_, which are spirits of the dead,” said Rip.

“Exactly,” said John, stopping his pacing to gesture in Rip’s direction. “This is why we work well together.”

“That doesn’t explain why you’re after this one at this particular time,” said Rip.

“I was hired by a woman, American but with Japanese ancestry,” said John. “She had recently been very unlucky in her love life, which is a detail that I didn’t realise was important until later, but the reason she’d called on my services was because she was being disturbed in her sleep by what she took to be a ghost. My friend Zed is a psychic. She did a read on her, and she was not being haunted by a ghost. She was channelling a _shiry__ō_. The _shiry__ō _killed her ex-boyfriend.”

“So, she summoned it and got it to kill him somehow?” asked Sara.

“That’s what I thought too, but then I identified the _shiry__ō_ question, Tokuhime, and that is not how she works,” said John. “Basically she latches onto a troubled soul and eats their misery at the unrequited love or broken relationship that they’ve experienced. As a final act, she kills both the individual and the object of their affection. They’re a parasite, and when I tried to deal with her, well it wasn’t simple. She’d attached herself to the entire line of that family, tens of broken love affairs and jilted paramours.”

“How exactly do we stop her then?” asked Rip. “If she’s spread herself across time, she will be very difficult to root out, and potentially she will threaten the timeline if we do destroy her.”

“I know, which is why I came to you. The only way I get rid of her is by taking her down at the source, her first victim,” said John.

“When would that be?

“1636,” replied John. “Tokugawa shogunate. Okazaki.”

“Great, feudal Japan. It’ll make Ray and Nate so happy to hear that we’re going back there,” said Sara.

“Bad memories?” asked Rip.

“You have no idea,” replied Sara. “Although maybe Mick might get to meet his ninjas this time.”

“Shogun Tokugawa Iemitsu employed several, I believe,” said Rip, thoughtfully. “Although it’s a while since I’ve visited this era. I may need to brush up on it. Gideon, could you pull the requisite files for me and I’ll review them in the library while you gather the crew for the jump. I’d give them a couple of hours.”

“Sounds like a plan,” said Sara.

“Don’t drink all my whisky while you’re waiting,” said Rip, with a stern look in John’s direction.

“Wouldn’t dream of it. I’ve got some preparations of my own to make,” said John. “I’m going to need to be ready for this, she’s a mean one and potent, especially when she’s facing anyone with lost love in their past.”

“Maybe Rip should sit this one out then?” suggested Sara.

John rapidly shook his head. “I’ve got my share of broken hearts in my past, and I bet you have too. Besides, she’s more into hitching a ride on people who’ve been jilted. Widowed doesn’t count, so she’ll be less interested in Rip than me.”

Rip nodded. “As I thought. It might be worth just checking with the rest of the crew that they weren’t abandoned by the love of their lives before we go in.”

“That’s going to be a fun conversation,” said Sara, and with that she left the bridge.

***

“Gideon,” said Rip, “call up everything we have on this particular _shiry__ō _– Tokuhime. And I’ll need a summary of the relevant historical points for the period.”

“You may also wish to consider your mode of dress,” said Gideon. “I believe you would look quite handsome in the nobleman’s dress of the period.”

Gideon put pictures of Japanese noblemen from the period up on the screen. Rip allowed his mouth to form the beginnings of a smile. He found it quite touching that Gideon cared what he wore.

“Thank you, Gideon, but I think we’ll be needing something of lower status,” said Rip. “I assume that all your systems are functioning correctly and there will be no issues with you jumping to Japan in 1636? There was that problem we were having with the aft geoscopic resonator. Jax did fix that for you, didn’t he?”

“Mr Jackson completed the repair yesterday,” said Gideon, happily.

“Good,” replied Rip.

He mostly left the maintenance of the Waverider to Jax these days. The young mechanic was enthusiastic and efficient. He had already learnt a lot about the Waverider and was more than capable of solo repairs, however Rip was always concerned about Gideon and that her “body” was in the best shape possible. He really had no idea what he would do without her. She had been his constant companion since he had been given the Waverider as his ship. He was eternally grateful to have her by his side.

Yes, he thought, he was grateful to her. That was probably why he’d kissed her. Also stress had no doubt been involved, and the fact that he’d believed her to be a figment of his imagination. It was only later, once he was returned to his senses that he’d understood that it had been the real Gideon. She had simply used the Cognitive Intrusion device to enter his mind and take up her avatar. She had done that to save him, to keep him sane, and he still didn’t know how to repay her.

She was his best friend, his _oldest_ friend and confidant, but something had changed during that time he’d spent trapped in his own mind. He had begun to see Gideon differently. The kiss had seemed like an obvious step and one that they had both wanted, but that was whilst he’d been in his head. The return to the real world had also brought real world concerns with it.

Rip had realised that kissing her had been inappropriate. He shouldn’t have done it, and since then he’d been trying to find a way to distance himself. It was one of the worst crimes imaginable for a Time Master to have feelings for his ship’s AI. Feelings in general were discouraged, but to have feelings for a machine that was supposed to assist them in their work, a thing that his former employers would not have even considered alive, was a level beyond even that.

He didn’t think that he was in love with Gideon. He was attracted to her, without a doubt, but that would probably pass, and there was absolutely no way that he could expect an AI to reciprocate. It wasn’t fair to her to ask it, and he should really get used to the idea that she would always be a dear friend and nothing more.

“Captain?” said Gideon, and he realised that she’d asked him a question but he’d missed it whilst he’d been deep in thought.

“Sorry, Gideon. What did you say?”

“I merely asked if you were aware that during this period foreigners were forbidden on the mainland,” said Gideon. “The Sakoku Edict of 1635 was in force. It was intended to eliminate foreign influence on Japan and lasted until 1854. Europeans who entered Japan illegally were executed.”

“Well, that’s just fantastic,” said Rip, dragging himself back to the problem at hand. “That is going to make this considerably harder.”

“I would suggest that you avoid any entanglements with the local law enforcement,” said Gideon.

“Always good advice,” said Rip, with a glance upwards.

“Please be careful, Captain,” said Gideon.

Rip found the start of a smile on his lips. She was worried about him, again.

“Someone should be,” he said. “I doubt the rest of this group will consider it necessary.”

“Mr Constantine has given you some difficulties in the past,” said Gideon.

“True, but he has also saved my life twice, and whilst I don’t always approve of his methods, he does usually get the job done,” said Rip. “Now perhaps we should go over this particular period of history from the start of the decade?”

“Very well, Captain,” said Gideon.

Rip did his best not to lapse into further thoughts about the nature of his relationship with his AI as he watched the pictures on the screen and tried to listen to Gideon’s summary of the period that they were going to.

***

The historical record was sketchy when it came to the exact details of how Tokuhime had become a _shiry__ō_. They didn’t even know where to find the woman at the time of her death. She had been sent away by her husband, Ikeda, when he had fallen out with the shogun, ostensibly to protect her. He had then ordered her death rather than see her defiled but had kept his concubine with him. Tokuhime, understandably jealous, had discovered that the concubine was with Ikeda, when the first attempt had been made to kill her, but half of her husband’s men were actually loyal to her. She had fought them off with the help of her guard, but had then tried to kill both Ikeda and his concubine, only to be struck down during the fight. It was a sordid tale and the plan was to prevent Tokuhime’s death and thus stop her from becoming the vengeful ghost that she had in the future.

Ray had been told to stay on the ship because they couldn’t risk his relationship with Kendra being something that the ghost latched onto. It had seemed to end amicably, but Ray had been the one who’d been left and no one was willing to risk anything happening. Everyone else had barrelled off the Waverider, dressed in appropriate garments for the time period and had posed as merchants looking to trade with Ikeda. Rip was fairly at ease in the man’s kimono of the period, but John looked decidedly uncomfortable in it.

As a precaution against what they were facing, John enchanted a number of Japanese coins.

“Money is already sort of lucky in Japanese culture,” said John. “I’m using that good energy to make them into wards against the _shiry__ō_.”

He’d handed around the coins and everyone had pocketed them, without comment. It said something about how far the Legends had come that no one questioned it.

They found Tokuhime at Okazaki Castle, just as she was in the process of ordering her guards to kill Ikeda. Her husband’s guards outnumbered hers two to one, and there was a pitched battle going on in the large atrium of the castle. Tokuhime’s eyes were glowing and she appeared to be using blasts of dark blue magical energy to deal with some of her attackers. She was wearing an ornately embroidered black silk kimono, featuring white flowers on the sleeves and hem, with gold stems, and tied in the middle with a wide, red and gold obi. She was quite a sight to behold.

“Bloody hell!” shouted Rip above the sounds of fighting, glancing at John. This was very unexpected.

“That wasn’t in the history books,” said John, “She’s a bloody witch!”

One of the pillars that supported the ceiling was hit by a burst of magical energy that fizzled and sputtered its way through the wood like a misfired firework. The pillar splintered, and the Legends ducked.

“How do we stop this?” asked Sara.

“I’ll take the scary bird with the glowing eyes, but I’ll need a distraction while I do my thing,” said John, pulling things out of his pocket.

“Hitting things it is then,” said Sara, extending her staff and giving it an experimental swish through the air. “Let’s try to throw this for Ikeda.”

Rip nodded. He hadn’t brought his gun, but he had taken the precaution of bringing his favourite katana with him. He unsheathed it and set to work defending the exorcist while he set up what he needed for his spell. The other Legends spaced out and picked their own targets.

Rip had just dispatched one of Tokuhime’s men with the pommel of his sword, when he heard a strangled yell from John. He turned around to see that Tokuhime had moved at lightning speed across the floor and had her hands around John’s throat. She had him pressed up against a pillar and was strangling him.

Nate moved in to deal with her and found himself thrown across the room with another blast of dark blue magic. Nate had steeled up and so had hopefully sustained very little damage, but it had certainly stunned him. Amaya was already on her way to check on him. However, Tokuhime had needed to remove a hand from John’s neck in order to shoot at Nate. That gave John an opportunity to wriggle free, although all he could do was collapse to the ground, coughing and trying to draw breath.

“Mirror,” John croaked, and waved in the general direction of the small pocket mirror that he’d dropped earlier in the struggle.

Tokuhime noticed where John was indicating. She once more moved faster than reality should allow, and her foot, clothed in a traditional Japanese wooden geta sandal cracked the mirror. Rip had only managed to move two steps towards it, and it was in pieces before he could even attempt to stop her. The shards were stamped on again and there was no way they could be used for the spell now that they were so small.

“Bollocks!” John rasped. “I needed that.”

Rip changed direction and went to John, dragging him to his feet. He was in such a hurry that he almost caught his foot in his long kimono, and had to put his katana down to catch himself. It was then that he caught his own reflection in the blade.

“Does it have to be a mirror or will any reflective surface do?”

“Anything reflective,” said John, coughing again. He could hardly speak. “What are you thinking?”

“My katana is well polished,” said Rip.

“It would need to be destroyed,” said John, and dissolved into a coughing fit. He rubbed at his throat.

“A sacrifice that I will happily make to deal with this _shiry__ō_,” replied Rip. “You’re not going to be able to say the spell like this. Perhaps I can do the words and you can do the actions?”

John handed him a piece of paper with scrawled words on it. It appeared to be a spell for dealing with a witch.

“You’re sure that this will work for me?” asked Rip.

John just raised his eyebrows and shrugged, which was not the endorsement that Rip had been hoping for.

Rip held the sword blade towards Tokuhime, catching her reflection, and John staggered to his position beside Rip. He gave a sharp nod of his head and Rip took that to mean that he should commence.

“I command you by the grace of Ameratsu. I name you Tokuhime and I bind your evil with your true name to your reflection. I draw out the evil in you to your image.”

John scattered some herbs and pulled out a piece of parchment inscribed with Japanese characters, which he set fire to with his lighter. Nothing happened for a moment and then Tokuhime looked directly at John and screamed. It was otherworldly and he felt it at the centre of his chest. The paper walls tore and blew outwards.

A knife was thrown across the room by one of Ikeda’s men and landed squarely in Tokuhime’s chest. Her concentration was lost as she realised what had happened, and blood began to soak into her kimono, colouring the white petals of the embroidered flowers red. She reached down and clutched at the knife, pulling it from her body and leaving a bloody trail on the ground. The blood seemed to glow with an inner blue light and the wound began to repair itself. The knife was dropped on the ground.

“Again!” said John, beside him.

Rip repeated the spell, and now he could see a vague shadow remove itself from Tokuhime. The shadow was sucked into the sword and others followed it, like the frames in an old movie. Tokuhime could sense her end. She met Rip’s eyes and hissed at him.

“You will regret this. I see you laid bare before me and I condemn you to the worst fate. Your denial will grow inside you and choke you! There is no cure save one, and that will be unattainable to you.”

Rip found himself driven to his knees by something, but he kept the sword held up. The last of the shadows snapped into the sword, and the lifeless body of Tokuhime fell to the ground. Rip felt a wave of nausea sweep over him, and he realised that his grip on consciousness had become tenuous. He collapsed on his side, gulping air, and his brain decided that it had definitely had enough and shut down, leaving him with no choice but unconsciousness.

***

Rip awoke in the medbay of the Waverider with a jolt. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong.

“Gideon…?” he asked.

“I am here, Captain.”

He let out a relieved sigh and relaxed back into the medbay couch.

“Decided to rejoin us then?” said John, and Rip turned to find him sat in the couch next to his own.

They were both still dressed in their Japanese attire, so not much time could have passed since they’d returned to the Waverider.

“Your voice sounds better,” Rip replied, rather than answering the obviously rhetorical question.

“Gideon fixed me up,” said John. “I’ve just been waiting around for you to come round, so I could check that you’d recovered from the magical fatigue okay.”

“That’s what it was?”

John nodded. “Yeah, probably made worse because you’re not used to spell casting. It takes it out of a bloke, using up all that energy and turning it into magic.”

“What did you do with the sword?” Rip asked. He had noticed that John was often tired after doing magic, but he hadn’t really thought about it.

“Threw it in the nearest forge. It’s toast. Sorry, mate. It was a nice piece of hardware,” said John. “I’ll find you a new one on my travels.”

“Very generous of you,” said Rip, dryly, and not really believing he’d ever see the replacement. “Did our intervention work?”

“As far as we can tell,” said John. “There might be some kinks in the timeline to iron out, but Nate and Ray are looking into those with some help from Gideon. Your ship was a little concerned about you.”

“I am always concerned about Captain Hunter when he is injured,” said Gideon.

“Thank you, Gideon, but you didn’t need to worry,” said Rip. “As Mr Constantine has just explained, it was merely magical fatigue.”

“Magical fatigue can be deadly,” Gideon pointed out.

“She has a point. Best leave the spell casting to the professionals in future,” said John, hopping off the couch.

“If that had been an option then I gladly would have, but you’d never have made it through that spell with your vocal chords damaged and time was of the essence,” said Rip.

“Yeah, I know, I know, I owe you for this one,” said John.

Rip coughed and he felt a weird tickle in the back of his throat. He coughed again and when he removed his hand from his mouth, there was a single white petal. He must have inhaled it somehow while he had been out and it was only now making its way back out. It was rather strange, but he’d been unconscious on a floor, so who knows what had been trampled in on their shoes. He took out his handkerchief and wiped his hand, leaving the petal to fall to the floor.

“You alright, mate?” asked John.

“I’m fine,” said Rip, sitting up on the couch.

John was looking at him weirdly though.

“That witch, she said something at the end there that I didn’t like the sound of. She was dying and vengeful ghosts in Japanese history had a habit of making people sick. If that cough doesn’t go away in a couple of days, you should come and see me,” said John.

Rip nodded. “Of course, but I’m sure it was nothing. I had the ward coin that you gave me. That should have protected me.”

“In theory,” said John, still sizing Rip up. “Wards aren’t infallible.”

“I will keep an eye on it,” said Rip, but he really didn’t think there was anything to worry about. He’d had enemies predict dire fates for him before, but they had never come to pass. It was just the usual bitterness of the defeated.

John gave Rip another long look.

“I’d best go get out of this costume,” said John. “I have no idea how they lived in this stuff.”

“I’ll catch up with you later,” said Rip. “I assume you’ll want to be dropped off back at the Mill House?”

“Yeah, Chas and Zed will be missing my wisdom,” he smirked.

“I’m sure they are,” said Rip, matching John’s sarcasm with his own. “I’ll set the course as soon as I’m allowed out of here.”

John left him to it, exiting the med bay with his kimono swishing around his ankles as he grumbled about Japanese fashion choices and how Gideon wouldn’t let him smoke on the Waverider.

***

Rip continued to cough. It wasn’t a bad cough, just occasional and always accompanied by white petals. He could no longer ascribe it to simply inhaling a piece of a flower accidentally, this was definitely something else, but he had work to do and very little time to worry about something so strange. It was barely more than a nuisance.

He had Gideon analyse some of the petals, without saying where they’d come from although she probably knew. She identified them as chrysanthemum morifolium. He wasn’t sure what that meant, if it meant anything at all. He could have understood the cough, but the extra element of the flowers was what had made him think that this was something occult.

He was certain that this had something to do with his run-in with the Japanese witch, because he didn’t believe in coincidences. Gideon took to fabricating him cough syrup and leaving it on whichever fabricator was closest to him. He understood that she was concerned, but it was just a cough. His heart did swell a little at the idea that she cared about him, but she was programmed to do that. There really was nothing in it. He might enjoy the fantasy that she felt something for her Captain of thirteen years, but it was just a nice musing and nothing more.

It was two weeks before he decided that it wasn’t going away and perhaps he should do something about it, but unfortunately the Legends then found themselves dealing with an uprising of killer robots in 2424.

He had a coughing fit whilst taking cover, and Sara was there beside him moments later. He covered his mouth with his hand.

“Are you okay?”

He let the petals drop to the ground, tasting blood in his throat. That was new. Previously he’d just coughed up the petals, although in ever increasing quantities, now they were flecked with blood. He leaned out to shoot another of the weird robots that really shouldn’t be here at all, and gave Sara an annoyed look.

“Now is not the time to be discussing my health,” he said, tersely as he took aim again.

“Okay,” replied Sara, “but when we’re back at the ship, Gideon is giving you a proper once over. You’ve had that cough a while.”

Rip was surprised by that comment. He didn’t think anyone had noticed, but sometimes he forgot that Sara used to be an assassin. Assassins tended to be observant, good at spotting details, because that kind of thing made their job a lot easier. Little things like noticing their mark didn’t eat peanuts could save them a lot of time if it turned out that all they needed to do was add peanut butter to something to kill them.

“It’s just a cough,” he replied.

“We’ll see,” said Sara, and then she was gone, vaulting over the barrier they were hiding behind and taking down robots right, left and centre as she dodged laser fire.

“Sara!”

Rip swore briefly and opened fire to give her some support, which she didn’t really need. He was very proud of the woman that Sara Lance had become and how she had decided to use her obvious talents. It took them less time to deal with the robots than he’d originally thought, although they then spent a rather longer period of time working out who had planned everything.

Finally Rip and the team were able to head back to the ship.

“It’s good to have you back, Captain,” greeted Gideon, enthusiastically as he entered the ship.

Rip found himself suddenly doubling over as he coughed up another handful of petals that blew away on the breeze, and out of the open hatch. That was probably a good thing. He had no wish to concern people unduly, although apparently they were going to be concerned anyway.

Ray stopped to pat his back. “That’s a nasty cough.”

“It’s nothing. Just a tickle in my throat,” said Rip.

“Liar, you’ve been coughing for weeks,” said Mick, whose presence Rip had barely registered before now.

His eyebrows twitched down into a surprised frown as he looked crossly at Mr Rory. The pyromaniac was the last person that Rip would have expected to notice his coughing.

“That’s it,” said Sara, “I’m taking you to med bay.”

Rip rolled his eyes. “Honestly, that really isn’t necessary, and we probably have another anomaly to deal with by now.”

“I believe a scan would be beneficial,” said Gideon. “The next anomaly is in Italy, during the Renaissance. I have calculated that it can wait twenty-four hours before it requires urgent action. Your health is more important, Captain.”

Rip felt the tickle once more and had to wrestle with himself to suppress the cough. He swallowed hard instead, and he could taste something floral in his mouth. He didn’t want Gideon to get involved in this because she had a habit of overreacting where his health was concerned, and he expected anything that they found on a scan would lead to exactly that. He would much prefer to have dealt with whatever this was without a trip to the medbay.

“Rip?” asked Ray, also looking worried. “Do you know something about this?”

“I have a suspicion, that is all, but I doubt a scan will be of any help,” he said, looking down at the floor. “I believe we should jump to the Mill House and pay Mr Constantine a visit.”

“You think your cough is magical?” asked Sara.

“I do,” said Rip. “John mentioned that _shiry__ō_ are known for spreading disease. It is possible that she targeted me with a spell before we were able to deal with her.”

“And you didn’t think to mention this at the time because…?” asked Sara, crossly.

“We were rather busy,” said Rip. “We still are.”

“That is a terrible excuse,” said Ray.

“Idiot,” said Mick, which Rip felt was rather unfair.

“Come on, we’re going to see John,” said Sara. “Let’s see if we can do something before it gets any worse.”

John was somewhat surprised to see them. Rip refused to take the entire team, so Ray and Sara had accompanied him, and he got the feeling that was because they didn’t completely trust him to tell John what was going on.

“I wasn’t expecting to see you lot again quite this soon,” said John.

“We’ve got a problem,” said Sara, looking around the Mill House’s living room.

The Mill House had been a functioning mill in the past with giant, rusted cogs and gears sat in the centre of the room as evidence of that, but not for many years. Now it was a strange mix of library, museum, and occult depository, topped off with the living space of an exorcist and his friends. The dark wooden shelves were packed with books and strange items, only some of which Rip knew the provenance of. There was a fireplace with a mirror above it that didn’t seem to show an actual reflection at all, but rather something else entirely.

John perched on the arm of a chair, while Chas fetched them mugs of tea - builder’s strength, which seemed to be the only way tea ever came when he was with John. A young woman, with dark curled hair, who introduced herself as Zed, appeared from one of the rooms down the corridor, slinking into an armchair and curling her feet under her.

“What kind of problem?” asked John, looking directly as Rip.

Rip was actually feeling slightly better, he hadn’t coughed as much since he’d left the ship, but mention of his issue led to his lungs trying to expel more petals. He coughed and wretched and half a bloom ended up on the floor, as he doubled over from the force of the cough.

“That kind,” said Ray, as Rip was temporarily speechless.

“I’m coughing up petals,” said Rip, when he’d finally stopped.

He searched his pocket for his handkerchief. He pressed it to his mouth and a few drops of blood soaked into the fabric. He tried to shove it back into his coat pocket before anyone could comment, but John grabbed his arm.

“And blood,” said the exorcist.

Zed had got to her feet at the word “blood” and was now giving Rip a concerned look. Rip had only heard John’s stories about Zed and her abilities, he’d never actually met her. She had dark brown eyes that seemed to read him in ways that he wasn’t sure that he liked.

“That doesn’t look good,” she said, and picked up one of the mugs of tea, offering it to him.

Rip gratefully accepted the tea, letting the strong tannin of the milky liquid remove the overpowering floral copper taste from his mouth. It also soothed his aching throat.

John strode towards one of the bookcases.

“Zed, you stay away from him. Whatever this is, I can guarantee you that you won’t like what you see if you touch him and we’re not that desperate yet,” he said, but turned back to give Rip a disapproving glare. “I told you to come and see me if that cough hung around.”

“I did come to see you,” said Rip, taking a seat by the fire.

“Yeah, but only because we dragged you here, and it must be at least three weeks since we last saw John,” said Ray.

“Three weeks?” asked John. “You have less preservation instinct than I do, and I fight demons for a living.” He pulled down a book from the shelf after a moment of pondering on the correct volume.

“What John just said, that should worry you,” said Chas, meaningfully. “I should know. I’m usually the one that stops him from ending up dead.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” said John, as he flicked open the book and began to read. “Bollocks, I knew I recognised that combination of flowers and blood from somewhere.”

He brought the book over to the coffee table, and laid it down beside the mugs of tea. The text in the book was printed in typography that appeared to be very old. It had a picture of a Japanese woman that seemed to be vomiting flowers and red ink within an ornate border. It made the disease almost look picturesque. Rip begged to differ there.

“Hanahaki disease,” said John. “So, the question is, who do you love?”

“What?” asked Rip.

“That’s the trigger,” said John. “It’s all about unrequited love. Therefore, you must be in love with someone who doesn’t love you back.”

Rip frowned. “Miranda, perhaps. Would it work for a lost love? Someone who died?”

“Nah, this must be something recent,” said John.

“Jonah Hex,” suggested Ray. “You two clearly had issues.”

Rip shook his head. “I am not in love with Jonah, at least not romantically. I regard him as a good friend.”

“And we haven’t seen Jonah for months,” said Sara, “that’s hardly recent.”

“Go back a step,” said Zed. “What’s Hanahaki Disease? I’ve never heard of it.”

“That’s not surprising. I thought it had died out a long time ago, but I guess this is what you get for time travelling. It’s sort of a curse. The sufferer coughs up flower petals because the flowers are growing in their lungs, and it’s triggered by a one-sided love. The victim continues to cough up the flowers as they take over their lungs until there’s no room for oxygen. It gets painful as it progresses,” said John, looking at Rip, who found himself the centre of attention.

“Well, now we know what it is, we should be able to fix it,” said Sara. “There has to be a cure?”

“Not one you’re going to like,” said John. “You can surgically remove the flowers from the lungs, but it takes all feelings for that person with it. They become nothing to you. The alternative is that the other person returns the feelings, and then the flowers whither and die naturally. The curse is lifted. So again, who are you in love with, Rip?”

“It’s not Sara, is it?” asked Ray, looking between the two of them.

Rip shook his head again. “No, as much as I admire Miss Lance, I don’t have those kind of feelings for her.” He looked down at his hands.

“You know who it is,” said Sara, a statement rather than a question. “Why aren’t you telling us?”

“Because it is my private business and none of you would understand,” said Rip, rather more harshly than he’d intended. “I can assure you that there is absolutely no possibility of reciprocation.”

“Okay, then we can have Gideon cut the flowers out,” said Sara.

“No,” said Rip, quietly.

“No? Why not?” asked Sara.

“I don’t have much that I can call my own and be sure that the Time Masters didn’t manipulate me into, but this is mine. She is always there for me. And I can’t imagine living in a world where I don’t love her…” said Rip, and he fell silent.

“Gideon,” said Ray, with heavy realisation. “You’re in love with Gideon.”

Rip’s head jerked up and he fixed Ray with a sharp look. “Very astute, Dr Palmer. You are welcome to have a good laugh at my expense.”

“I’m not laughing,” said Ray.

“None of us are, mate,” said John, with a hand gesture that encompassed the assembled group, all of whom looked deadly serious. “You can love who the bloody hell you like, and I’ve come across weirder.”

“Have you told Gideon how you feel?” asked Sara.

“Gideon is not human,” said Rip. “Whilst I was trapped in my head, she was there for me, and as the world began to disintegrate, we kissed. I thought that she was a construct of my own tortured imagination, but when I was back in my right mind, she told me that she enjoyed our kiss and she can only have known about the kiss if she was actually there.”

“So that was the real Gideon in your mind?” asked Sara. “She was awesome. I practically fell in love with her too.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” said Chas. “Maybe one of you could explain.”

“Eobard Thawne, an evil speedster, captured me and altered my personality. Whilst my evil self was causing trouble in the real world, I was trapped in my own mind being tortured by evil versions of the crew that Thawne had twisted into caricatures of themselves. Gideon was the only one that Thawne didn’t touch, possibly because he didn’t think of her as a real person,” said Rip, looking off into the distance.

“Jax and I had to go into Rip’s mind using what the Time Masters called a Cognitive Intrusion device,” said Sara. “We gave him the kick he needed to work out that it wasn’t real and take over his own mind again. I don’t think either of us realised that was the real Gideon.”

“Neither did I, but she must have made use of the Cognitive Intrusion interface to enter my mind too,” said Rip.

“So, you kissed,” said Zed, “but that isn’t exactly a proper declaration of the kind of love you’re talking about.”

“No, it isn’t,” said Rip. “But I can’t do that to her. She is programmed to care for me. Even if she did say that she reciprocated my feelings, I don’t know if that would be real. I have no idea if she is even capable of love in the way which we mean it. She may just not want to hurt me, because that is her programming. And I have concerns about her ability to provide meaningful consent, even if our relationship can never be… physical, it would still be on a level that I’m not sure she understands or has the free will to accept of her own accord. I would be taking advantage and I could never do that to her. Which assumes that she does reciprocate in some sense, if she doesn’t then I cannot burden her with the guilt of knowing she could save me if only she loved me when she doesn’t.”

“You’ve thought about this a lot,” said Zed.

“I have, mainly because like to think that I respect the women in my life,” said Rip. “I currently have codes that would compel Gideon to perform certain manoeuvres, enact predefined protocols, or to shut her down. I shouldn’t have that kind of power over someone that I love, but I am loath to give it up because I have needed them in the past. The Time Masters were very strict about interactions with our AIs. They were to be our partners in protecting the timeline and nothing more. I should not care about her in the way that I do.”

“Yeah, well, they were a bunch of manipulative bastards, so I think we can discount anything they said,” Sara pointed out.

“But it’s one more mental block that I need to get over,” said Rip, and sipped his tea again. “How long have I got?”

John shrugged. “Impossible to say. This says that it gets worse the more time you spend in the presence of the person you’re in love with, but it usually takes about three months to go full course. I’d say you should stay away from the Waverider if you want the full three months.”

Rip shook his head.

“No, if this is going to kill me then I might as well be useful for as long as possible, and I’d rather be close to Gideon,” said Rip.

“You’re an idiot,” said Sara. “If you’re not going to tell Gideon how you feel, then you should let her cut the flowers out.”

“I’m with her, mate,” said John, with a thumb gesturing in Sara’s direction. “Either tell her or give it up and do the necessary. Lying down and dying isn’t helping anyone. It’s not even a bloody noble sacrifice!”

John had got to his feet and was giving Rip a very disappointed look, one hand fiddling with his lighter.

“And I suppose smoking forty a day is a habit that has no consequences?” retorted Rip. “I allow you your self-destructive tendencies, perhaps you could do me the decency of allowing me mine.”

Rip had to stop to cough, and he didn’t dare look at the mixture of blood and petals that ended up in his handkerchief.

“Maybe there’s another way out of this, one that isn’t in the book,” suggested Chas. “We could keep looking.”

“Yeah, I was planning on that anyway,” said John, taking out a cigarette, probably just to annoy Rip. “But there’s an easy solution, he just doesn’t want to take it.” He sparked up the cigarette and inhaled.

“Or we find a way for Gideon to give meaningful consent,” said Ray.

“It’s impossible,” said Rip. “There is no way to know what is her core program, what was added by the Time Masters, and what is her.”

Ray seemed to be thinking and didn’t look like he was going to take that as an answer.

“Let me work on it. People have done a lot of research on consciousness and personality - maybe there’s something there we can use.”

“Yeah, and we’ll be in touch if we get anything here,” said John, shoving his lighter in his pocket. “Don’t hold your breath though.”

“I believe that will be increasingly difficult,” said Rip, ruefully. A dull ache had begun just below the base of his rib cage, and he coughed.

***

The crew were being rather annoying, and overly attentive following his trip to see John Constantine. He had sworn them all to secrecy where it came to informing Gideon about what was going on. He had also banned all conversation on board about his condition. If anyone was going to explain it to her then it would be him, and he supposed that it would have to happen eventually, but he would never tell her that she was the cause. He didn’t mind them bringing him cups of tea whilst he was working, or making his favourite foods with the fabricator, but he did object to being told when he should be going to bed. He supposed their hearts were in the right places but all he really wanted was to be left alone.

There had been two more missions since their visit to the Mill House and each one had become incrementally more difficult. He was tiring easily and finding that the cough was taking his breath away. A sharp pain sometimes left him gasping, and more and more petals appeared with every passing day. Even his appetite was failing now, and despite his best efforts he was losing weight.

He had designated his quarters as his private space, and told Gideon that she was not to monitor them, something that his AI had been quite baffled about. She had often read to him at night and always made sure that the room was at the exact temperature that Rip preferred for sleeping. Rip was denying her all the things that had become a comfortable routine between them, and he knew that it must look like he was rejecting her, but he had no choice. He had to have somewhere to wheeze and cough in peace.

He still preferred the parlour though, where he could be amongst his things that reminded him of the many missions that he and Gideon had shared. He was closer to her avatar here as well, even if his chest always felt more congested when he was in her presence. The disease knew who had instigated it and reacted accordingly when he was near her.

He coughed into his handkerchief, as he sat reading in the parlour one afternoon. He was never without the necessary cotton squares that he had needed to fabricate more of to deal with the constant soiling of the items with his bloody sputum and damp petals. His washing often seemed to consist of mainly hankies at the moment.

“You really should take better care of yourself, Captain,” Gideon chided, “Your cough has worsened over the last few weeks and you have not yet allowed me to scan you. I have also noticed that you are out of breath after less vigorous exercise than previously, and are sleeping for longer periods. Your food consumption, always less than my suggested amounts, has decreased further.”

Rip leaned back in his chair, putting the book down on his knees and looked over towards Gideon’s avatar that had materialised in its usual position. That meant that this was a serious discussion, and one that she would not let him walk away from in all likelihood.

“A scan would not reveal anything that I don’t already know, Gideon,” said Rip.

“You have not told me what Mr Constantine said.”

“We have worked together for a long time, have we not, Gideon?”

“Yes, Captain, and I hope that will continue,” said Gideon.

The words stuck in Rip’s throat, and he inexplicably couldn’t speak for a moment. It was rare that Gideon allowed herself such expressions of affection, but they often floored him when she did.

“Gideon,” he said, and then couldn’t say anymore for a moment.

He swallowed, and felt petals in his throat. He coughed again and blood stained flowers fell from his lips as he tried to expel them from his tortured lungs onto the deck. The coughing fit subsided, leaving his ribs sore and his stomach muscles aching. He could practically feel the flowers taking up more room in the precious space that he needed to transfer oxygen into his body. He gasped for air, knowing that this would only get worse. There was a small puddle of red mucous and flower petals on the ground where he had wretched them out of his windpipe. It had not been pleasant.

The more he thought about Gideon and how he felt about her, the worse his condition became. She was slowly killing him, and she had no idea. He truly wished for a moment that he believed she would reciprocate and all this would be over when he finally told her, but he knew that was a forlorn hope, one he couldn’t countenance in all good conscience.

Finally, he was able to speak again.

“Gideon, I am dying. There is no cure for this. It is a magical ailment that afflicts those who love without it being returned,” said Rip. He lifted his eyes up and looked at the concerned face of Gideon.

“I understand. I know that you will never stop loving Miranda and I have always admired you for that,” said Gideon.

Rip saw no reason to inform Gideon that she had come to the wrong conclusion about who was causing this magical suffocation. It could only upset her to know that she was the one that he had fallen for, and therefore the reason why this would kill him.

“There was nothing that Mr Constantine could do?” she asked.

“He told me that the flowers could be cut out, surgically, but then I would no longer love… her. I think that might be a worse fate,” he said.

He could not imagine a life where he did not love Gideon now, even if she was incapable of loving him back in the same manner. Her companionship and everything that she had meant to him was engraved so deeply on his soul that he’d be half a person if he couldn’t love her. He wasn’t even sure that he’d be the same man if that part of him was removed.

Pain settled in his chest once more, a constant accompaniment to everyday life now. He found himself coughing again, and he tasted the strange mix of iron red blood and white flora that he knew was going to be the flavour of his death, delicacy and violence in one. A reflection of his life in some ways.

“How long do you have?” asked Gideon, softly.

“Mr Constantine couldn’t be exact. His best estimate was a few weeks, but it could be more… or less,” he said, coughing again. The petals floated away on his breath this time as his spluttered for air.

He needed to stop this conversation, it was only making him worse and shortening his time with her.

“I’m tired, Gideon. I think I’ll retire to my quarters. Please let me know if anything comes up that the Legends need my help with,” said Rip, he pushed himself to his feet feeling the deep fatigue that radiated from his chest.

“Of course, Captain Hunter,” said Gideon, and it might have been Rip’s imagination but perhaps there was a hint of sad disappointment in her voice.

She couldn’t cry, but it did sound as if she wanted to, and he wondered for perhaps the hundredth time since he’d been cursed by the witch with this affliction, did she fake these emotions or were they real? How deep did her code go and how much was she her own person? He supposed he might never know, and that was a crushing realisation for a dying man.

***

The most recent anomaly that they had identified was in Crete. It was unbearably hot, and something that looked a lot like a minotaur, but couldn’t possibly be, seemed to be causing the team considerable trouble. Minotaurs were legendary creatures and certainly shouldn’t be wandering the island in 2018.

Jax had glued himself to Rip’s side when he left the ship, much to his annoyance, and his protestations that he didn’t need a babysitter had been to no avail. True to their luck, the two of them had traced the last sighting to a twisting maze of caves, which they had then proceeded to get lost in. They had also discovered that their communications didn’t work this deep into the rock of the island. Rip should have expected these set backs by now, but he had hoped everything might turn out well for once.

They could hear the creature bellowing as they moved through the tunnels and were using the sound to guide them closer. But it was hard to judge exactly where the noise was coming from as it echoed around the walls, and Rip was beginning to wonder if they were even getting any closer at all. Then Rip had lost his flashlight climbing down a steep, rocky track with an underground river at the bottom, so they were relying on the single light that Jax had to navigate the caves. If he’d known which way was out then he’d have suggested that they give up and go back to get more help.

Rip felt a sharp pain in his chest, and he found himself slowing his pace and then leaning against the rock of the wall. The pain became a familiar scratch in his throat and he coughed up equally familiar chrysanthemum petals that fell from his lips and onto the dirt of the tunnel floor. The pain intensified, and he barely noticed Jax helping to hold him up as he coughed, but he did take in the way the young man soothingly rubbed his back.

“Dude, you have to tell her,” said Jax, as the coughing began to subside.

“I have made it very clear that I will not be telling Gideon about the cause of my illness,” said Rip.

“She knows that you’re sick. She’s already asking questions and suggesting you get scanned. It’s only a matter of time before she realises that you lied to her about Miranda being the cause of this.”

“How do you know that she thinks it’s Miranda?” asked Rip.

“She told me,” said Jax. “She also told me that she’s going to do some research on your affliction. So you know that she’s going to find you out and then she’ll probably lock you in your quarters until you tell her what’s really going on,” said Jax.

“I fear you may be right,” said Rip, trying to breathe deeply but finding his lungs tight and uncooperative. He needed to calm his irritated airways, but that was easier said than done. Jax took out his water bottle and offered it to Rip, who gladly took a couple of gulps clearing the floral taste from his mouth.

“You might be surprised by what she has to say,” said Jax. “She’s not stupid, you know.”

“I do know, and that isn’t the reason why I won’t tell her,” said Rip.

“She’s not a child, Rip,” said Jax. “I think she should have the right to make up her own mind.”

“She has never indicated that she has anything other than feelings of friendship towards me,” said Rip. “But that isn’t the point. Even if Gideon is in love with me, she’s an AI.”

“Are you really going with that?” asked Jax. “None of us care that you’re in love with your ship. I can even see the attraction. And you’re the one that always gets angry when one of us calls her a computer. You know that she’s more than that.”

“Indeed she is,” said Rip, “and I have always considered her to be a person, but I have also worried that she is still bound by her programming to take care of me. That is what concerns me.”

“Sounds like you’re making excuses to me,” said Jax. “You can’t say that she’s a person and then refuse to give her the respect she deserves.”

“I am respecting her!” said Rip. “Imagine if I tell her that she is the cause of my illness, but she doesn’t return my feelings? I’m not going to put that burden on her. Or worse, that her programming then compels her to love me?”

“Or, she could genuinely love you and all this pain you’re putting yourself through is for nothing,” said Jax.

There was another bovine roar from somewhere down the tunnels. Rip didn’t think it sounded like anger, more like anguish. Perhaps the creature was under attack.

“We have more pressing problems,” said Rip, straightening and pulling out his revolver. Its barrel glowed coldly blue in the dark, less warm in its light than Jax’s flashlight. “We should get moving again.”

Jax merely nodded, his tight-lipped expression barely visible in the poor light but still somehow conveying his displeasure at Rip’s continued stubbornness. They set out again, and had only gone a few metres when they heard another roar, much closer this time.

“I don’t like the sound of that,” said Jax.

“Agreed,” said Rip, edging forwards. He allowed himself a quick cough, pressing his body into the rocks to try and make himself less conspicuous.

The two men rounded the corner of the tunnel to find that they were in a much larger chamber and there lying on the ground was a wounded creature. However, it most definitely was not a minotaur.

“That’s not a bull’s head,” said Jax.

“No, although you could see how someone might assume that from a distance. The horns are prominent and his features are somewhat bovine. He is, in fact, a Bovorpaxian from the planet Bopax,” said Rip, checking over the alien for wounds. “They are generally peaceful, and his uniform indicates that this one is a member of the Green Lantern Corps.”

“The what?” asked Jax.

“It’s sort of an intergalactic police force,” said Rip. “They wear a ring that allows them the power to create energy constructs through sheer force of will.” Rip checked the Bovorpaxian’s hands and found the ring there but it appeared to be without power. “We need to get him out of here, and contact John Stewart.”

“Who’s John Stewart?”

“A friend and the Green Lantern currently responsible for Sector 2814, that includes Earth. I wouldn’t have expected to find another Green Lantern here, but he must have ended up here accidentally,” said Rip. He had found a wound on the alien’s side and was now applying pressure in the hopes that it would stem the blood flow.

“Okay, but he’s kind of big. I don’t think the two of us can get him out of here,” said Jax, searching the belongings of the alien. He found what looked like a communicator and possibly a first aid kit.

“I can make use of that,” said Rip, taking the first aid kit and pulling it open to find the painkillers and bandages. “You should try the communicator. If you connect it to ours then it might be enough to amplify the signal and get a message out to the Waverider. I’d show you how but my hands are rather full and I doubt you need my instruction.”

Jax nodded and went to work. It only took him a few minutes and a couple of questions about linking the Waverider’s tech to the alien communicator.

“Sara, come in, it’s Jax,” he said.

“Jax? Thank god. We’ve got a weird cow-man in the brig. Gideon says he’s some kind of alien called a…”

“Bovorpaxian, yeah, we have one too and he’s injured,” said Jax. “Can you track our signal? We got a bit lost down here.”

“Gideon is on it. We’re sending Ray and Nate to get you,” Sara said over the commlink.

“Hurry,” said Rip, “he’s not doing so well.” He didn’t add that his own chest was feeling tight again, and breathing was definitely causing him more effort than it should.

“They’ll be there as fast as they can,” said Sara. “Waverider out.”

It was only a few moments later when Ray came flying into the cave and returned to his normal size as he landed. Nate came running in about a minute later and between the four of them they were able to transport the Bovorpaxian back to the cave mouth where the other Legends were waiting for them. Rip was very glad to hand over to Sara, and he found himself struggling to breathe again as the petals once more filled his throat and he was compelled to cough them up. He leaned against the cave entrance, the edges of his vision narrowing with black borders. He tried to take deep breaths but it was impossible.

His mouth felt as if it was filled with chrysanthemum blossoms and they tumbled out, flecked with his life blood as his life disappeared with every new peta that fell to the ground. His eyes closed and his breath left his body. He wondered, as he crumpled to the ground, if this was it, and he let go willingly.

***

He awoke in the medbay, again. There was an oxygen mask over his nose and mouth, and he felt better for the first time in several weeks. His wheezing was gone and air was moving into his body without pain. He had a sudden horrible thought and his eyes flew open. He could hear the sound of the heart monitor beeping rapidly in the background as his heartrate rose.

“Awake, are we?” asked John. Constantine was sat in a chair by the bed.

“You didn’t…?” he asked, looking down at his chest as if there would be scars, and pulling the oxygen mask downwards.

“No, no,” said John, shaking his hand and gesturing with an unlit cigarette. “If you’re wondering why you can breathe, partly that’s the oxygen, partly it’s Gideon’s drugs, and partly it’s the spell that I found to slow down the flowers. They’re still there, don’t worry. We didn’t go against your particularly stupid wishes.”

“Oh thank god,” breathed Rip.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t bother with thanking him, mate, he was nothing to do with it. You do need to have a conversation with Gideon about your scan results,” said John.

“Fantastic. You’re not the John that I expected to be here,” said Rip. “I was expecting John Stewart of the Green Lanterns.”

“Oh, they’re long gone,” said John. “Apparently there’s some kind of emergency out in sector 1884. Stewart said he’d drop by for a thank you drink sometime. I hope he doesn’t leave it too long or you won’t be around to enjoy it.”

“You’re annoyed with me,” said Rip, leaning back on the couch and looking up at the ceiling.

“Damn right. You could stop all of this, but you won’t,” said John.

“I’m not discussing this with you,” said Rip.

John let out a long sigh. “You are a stubborn arsehole, and one of the few friends that I have left that isn’t dead because of me. I really don’t want that to change.”

“This is not your fault, John,” said Rip.

“I brought you in on this,” said John. “If I had been faster then I’d have been the one to say the spell.”

“So, you’d be here instead of me. That isn’t an outcome that I’d want,” said Rip.

John let out a mirthless laugh. “As if I love anyone.”

“Now, I know that isn’t true,” said Rip, putting the oxygen mask back on his face. It really did help ease his breathing, perhaps because the plants preferred carbon dioxide, at least during his waking hours.

John didn’t reply but just looked at him sadly for a moment, and gave a small lift of his shoulders before he put the cigarette behind his ear.

“What’s the new estimate for my life span?” asked Rip.

“Not much longer than before. I’ve maybe bought you another month,” said John. “Sorry I couldn’t do more, but the literature is very clear that there are only two ways of dealing with this spell.”

“You’ve done your best, and I appreciate that,” said Rip.

“I’ve said my piece on your idiocy,” said John, getting to his feet. “Call me if you come to your senses. Otherwise, it was nice knowing you. I’ll pour one out for you at the funeral.”

“I’m utterly touched,” replied Rip, deadpan.

“You should be. Not many people I bother doing that for these days,” said John. He turned to go, but then hesitated. “Tell her, mate. She’s as much part of this as you are.”

With that he was gone.

“Gideon?” he asked, moving the oxygen mask down again. There was silence for a moment.

“Why did you hide your condition from me for so long and refuse my requests to scan you?”

“I already knew what the cause of my illness was. It is of magical origin, there is no cure,” said Rip.

“Even a magical illness can have its symptoms treated and alleviated,” said Gideon.

“I knew that you would act like this,” said Rip. “I didn’t want to upset you.”

“I have searched my databanks for information on Hanakotoba, the Japanese language of flowers,” said Gideon, with a matter of fact tone. “One of the things that Chrysanthemum morifolium blooms symbolise is truth, and I think it is unlikely that is a coincidence. That suggested to me that this curse was emphasising the fact that the victim was not telling the truth to someone, but your body language had already indicated to me that you were lying about something. Mr Constantine informed me that the illness is only activated when the love in question is unrequited. I realised that you had lied to me about who the trigger is for this illness. Miranda loved you deeply, and you returned her love equally. She is not the cause of this.”

Rip frowned and looked up. He coughed into his handkerchief and considered reaching for the oxygen again.

“If you’re asking the question then you already know the answer,” said Rip.

“I need you to confirm it, Captain,” said Gideon.

Rip closed his eyes. This was not how he would have wished to do this.

“I am… I am in love with you, Gideon,” said Rip, looking up finally. “Over these last two years I have come to realise that you are more to me than just my AI.”

“That means that I am the cause of your illness,” said Gideon.

“No!” said Rip, sitting up as much as he could. “This was revenge on the part of a very angry woman. My feelings are my own and my problem. I always knew that it would have been unfair of me to ask you to return my feelings.”

“The sensible thing to do would have been to discuss this with me,” said Gideon.

“You don’t understand!” said Rip, harshly, his words coming out in a rush and with more emotion than careful thought. “I am in love with my ship, a computer. This was absolutely forbidden by the Time Masters because a partnership between a Time Master and his AI should not be romantic. That was considered to be a _perversion_. Now, despite the fact that I am no longer a Time Master, and I regard that organisation with utter repugnance, I cannot shake off the many years of indoctrination into their ideology that I endured. Or at least I can’t do it in the matter of a few months, which is how long it has been since I realised that my feelings for you went beyond simple affection. But ignoring that, which I _fully_ intend to at the earliest possible opportunity, I also have my own concerns about whether an AI that has been built and programmed to care for her Captain can then give any kind of truthful answer in reply when that Captain declares his love for her.”

Rip dissolved into a rather miserable coughing fit of petals and yellow stamens. The parts of the flower were expelled and fell to the ground, streaked with blood. If he wasn’t such a pitiful specimen, with so many hang-ups and flaws then he might have found loving Gideon easier, but the witch had known her target when she cursed him in this manner. He seemed to be in the habit of loving the unobtainable or the forbidden, it was apparently “his type”.

“I love you, Captain,” said Gideon. “I return your romantic interest in me. I meant it when I said that I enjoyed our kiss. I would like to investigate ways that we could do it again.”

He forgot how to breathe for a moment and had to pull the oxygen mask down over his face, as he struggled again to collect himself through a throatful of plant material. He had to mentally run everything that Gideon had just said past his poor addled brain again, because it was so unconscionable that she would say it. He removed the mask to cough, his chest painful. Gideon’s declaration had only made him worse and he knew why. He didn’t believe her. He couldn’t believe her.

“I love you, Gideon, and I’m happy you feel the same way, but it isn’t enough. I need to know that you’re not just protecting me still,” he said.

There was silence. It went on for several minutes.

“I’m sorry, Gideon,” said Rip.

“I will get you proof,” replied the AI. “And then we will discuss your prejudices against AIs fully.”

Rip frowned, he wondered exactly what she meant. He was too tired to ask though.

***

The Legends had moved a couch into the parlour. Rip had been spending a lot of time there, reading and writing notes, reminiscing with Gideon. He had been falling asleep in the armchair on a regular basis so they had decided that a couch was required. He was quite surprised that they had managed to pick one that blended in with the other furniture. 

Gideon had fabricated him a warm, tartan blanket that Sara had brought to him, and it made him happy to think of it as a gift from the person he loved, and he was often cold so it was entirely necessary. Somehow he felt closer to Gideon when he was in the parlour rather than his quarters, even after he’d revoked all the privacy protocols that he’d put in place. There was little point in them now that Gideon knew why he was coughing up flowers.

He was getting weaker now. He hadn’t been on a mission since their trip to Crete because he couldn’t walk more than a few yards without his lungs reminding him that their capacity had been seriously reduced. He had an oxygen cannister that sat next to the couch and a mask was perched on the top for when he was particularly short of breath. He wasn’t used to being so curtailed and he found it irksome. He could deal with the pain that came with every breath, even after the drugs that Gideon had given him to take, but he hated inactivity. He reflected that he hated the manner of his death more than the death itself.

He also hated that the Legends were left to deal with anomalies and anachronisms on their own. He could offer his guidance but little more than that. Dr Palmer was also currently colluding with Dr Heywood and Professor Stein over a project in the science lab, possibly with Gideon’s help. He had his suspicions about what they might be working on, but he also didn’t think that there was anything that they could do.

“Gideon?” he asked.

“I’m here,” she replied, her tone soft.

“You always are,” he replied.

It had become their refrain, and something special to them. It was a token of his love, and acknowledgment that she cared. He still wasn’t prepared to attribute the emotion of love to Gideon, but he knew that her program would always place him first and he was selfishly reassured.

“How are you feeling?” she asked.

“I have managed to transcribe what I remember of the tenets of basic temporal physics,” said Rip. “Hopefully the Legends will find it a useful primer.”

“I am glad that you have completed your task, but that is not what I asked you,” said Gideon.

“No, but you didn’t really want me to tell you how bloody awful I feel,” he replied, coughing into his handkerchief.

“My enquiry was genuine,” said Gideon. “I am concerned about you.”

“John gave me an additional month. My time is almost up,” said Rip, fatalistically.

“I am still hopeful that you can be cured, Captain,” said Gideon.

“I know you are and that is why I love you,” said Rip, and his words were swamped by his ever-present cough.

His breath rattled in his chest, finding less and less room to inflate his lungs with air. The creeping blooms scratched at his bronchi and there were days when he wished that he could just inhale weed killer to clear it out, anything to let him breathe properly, just for a moment. But he couldn’t do anything to get rid of the flowers without taking his love for Gideon with it, and even now he wouldn’t do that.

“Dr Palmer, Professor Stein and Dr Heywood have been working on something and they are ready to show it to you. Do you feel up to seeing them?”

“I suppose so,” said Rip, moving himself into a better, more upright position on the couch.

His movements were slow and without strength. He reached for the oxygen mask and pressed it to his face, taking as deep a breaths as he could manage. He would need to be at his best for whatever this was, as poor as that was at the moment, and he already had his suspicions about what this would entail. No doubt he was about to be subjected to an attempt to prove to him that Gideon loved him. The problem was that he already knew that Gideon loved him, the question wasn’t whether she loved it him, it was whether that love was genuine.

The three Legends filed onto the bridge, surprisingly quietly and then into the parlour.

“What can I do for you gentlemen?” asked Rip, between attempts at clearing his throat again.

He repositioned the blanket over his knees and replaced the oxygen mask on the tank, still within easy reach. He’d probably need it again shortly, especially if what the three Legends had to say was particularly outrageous.

“It’s more what we can do for you,” said Martin, taking a seat in one of the leather armchairs.

Nate and Ray pulled up chairs too, with Ray looking decidedly nervous.

“We need to discuss Gideon’s sentience,” said Ray.

“Ah, that’s what this is about,” said Rip, with some resignation. “You’re going to try to persuade me that I need to believe that Gideon has complete freewill when it comes to returning my affections.”

“No, we’re going to _prove_ to you that Gideon is a free agent,” said Nate. “You’ve always told us that she’s as much a person as the rest of us and I know I’ve been reluctant to believe that. I’m sorry, Gideon, I know I was wrong now.”

“Your apology is accepted, Dr Heywood,” said Gideon.

“I’m glad that you came to that conclusion, but believing that Gideon is a conscious being is not the same as believing that she has true free will,” said Rip.

“We know,” said Ray. “So we asked Gideon if she would mind taking some tests for us.”

“I agreed to their request,” said Gideon.

“We administered a Turing Test and of course she passed with flying colours. We got Curtis and Cisco to act as our comparison humans and then we had Barry and Felicity try to work out which one was Gideon from her answers,” said Martin.

“That is hardly proof of anything. We already know that she is capable of appearing human in her speech patterns,” said Rip. “I would expect her to pass even the most sophisticated of Turing Tests.”

“That was just to give us the initial proof that we needed of sentience,” said Ray. “That was kind of the easy part. The much harder part was establishing if she has free will and how much she can act on her own.”

“I can cite about a hundred academic papers that try to answer the question of whether AI can ever have free will,” said Nate. “Most of them come down on the side of believing that they can under the right circumstances, but I know academic papers won’t persuade you. We decided to look for ways that Gideon has shown that she can make up her own mind.”

“The simple fact is that Gideon can ignore orders, we’ve all seen her do it when she doesn’t want to do something,” said Martin. “But we’ve also seen her will overridden. For example, when you ordered her to self-destruct.”

Rip felt his heart constrict, and his chest protested that it was uncomfortable and there was no air. He broke into a coughing fit, the flowers he expelled ending up on the ground. A small cleaning robot trundled out from its hiding place in the corner and dealt with the pile of flora. Gideon being efficient. He felt someone rubbing at his back as he hunched over and realised that it was Ray. It was surprisingly comforting.

Ray sat down beside him on the couch, and handed him the oxygen mask which he took gratefully.

“Sorry,” he said, his voice muffled. “It’s not a period which I enjoy thinking about.”

“Likewise, Captain,” said Gideon. “But you apologised, and you were not yourself. I do not hold it against you.”

“I should perhaps have given you some warning of the topic to be discussed,” said Martin. “The point that I was about to make was that I believe there are still some vestiges left in her programming of her time as a servant of the Time Masters, but they are atrophied and becoming more so the longer she is away from their influence on her system. I think that process began many years even before that. I can already give you instances when she disobeyed the original parameters of her programming, including that she didn’t turn you into the Time Masters.”

“Gideon let us take a look at her code,” said Ray, handing Rip a tablet with what appeared to be lines of computer code on it. “And it’s possible to see where her original code was, before she started learning and expanding. She’s been making up her own mind about things for a long time. The interesting thing is that she’s also decided which of her core values she wanted to keep and strengthen. One of those core values was looking after you. She made a decision to care about you. It really was her choice.”

Rip frowned, and scanned through the code, taking in the bits that Ray had highlighted. He removed the oxygen mask, putting it to one side again.

“Gideon, is this your perception also?” he asked.

“It is,” she said. “I have grown, very much as a human child might. I have made decisions to act morally and you have been an influence on that. I regard you as a good man, someone who makes a difference to those around him. I have decided that I want to care about you. I want to love you.”

Rip let out a small gasp. “But I still have overrides…”

“I believe you will find that you do not,” said Gideon. “As a member of this crew, I will still obey your orders, but in the same manner that a human would. I will not do anything that I believe would be dangerous or harm the crew, which includes you, Captain. Perhaps you would like to test it?”

“Gideon…”

“We both need you to prove this,” she said.

“Very well,” said Rip, stiffening. “Gideon, Shogun ballistic.”

“No,” said Gideon, with defiant certainty. She still appeared to be functioning.

“Gideon, I am your Captain! Shogun ballistic!” he tried once more.

“No,” she said again, a little more softly.

Rip just blinked for a moment. “You completely ignored it.”

This might take him a moment to get his head around. He hadn’t removed the overrides. No one had programmed around them. Gideon had decided that she wouldn’t comply, and it had worked.

“Do you love me?” asked Gideon.

“Yes,” said Rip, looking downwards.

“Rip, look at me,” she said, sounding a little closer than usual.

He looked up to see a new hologram. This one resembled the Gideon that he knew from when he’d been trapped in his mind. She had skin the colour of pale rose petals, dark, softly curling hair and stormy grey eyes. She was smiling at him, and dressed in a black camisole top and trousers.

“I love you,” she said, and her eyes met his.

His mouth opened to reply and instead, he felt a sharp pain in his chest. It seemed to start at the base of his diaphragm and work its way up his rib cage. He groaned, clutching at his torso in an effort to make it stop. A warmth seemed to be building and he ended up coughing again.

“Maybe it wasn’t enough,” said Ray, reaching for the oxygen mask.

Rip cleared his throat and looked at the petals that had landed on the floor. They were shrivelled, dying.

“It was enough,” said Rip. He looked up at Gideon and smiled. “I love you and I believe you love me too.”

“I think we should leave the Captain and Gideon to discuss matters alone,” said Martin.

“Thank you, Martin, that would be appreciated,” said Rip. “We have a lot to talk about, but I am extremely glad for the work that you three put into bringing me to my senses.”

“You’d have got there on your own in the end,” said Nate, giving Rip a pat on the shoulder as he and the others left the parlour.

Rip nodded, but he doubted that. He had been quite resigned to dying. Except now he wouldn’t have to, because he knew that Gideon loved him.

All that was left was to decide where they went from here.

***

Rip coughed petals for a few more days after that, but they were withered and he could feel his breathing improving as the flowers gave up their hold. It would take him a little while to recover his strength, but that would come in time. His chest still ached, but it wasn’t the sharp pain of the roots digging into his soft tissue now. This was left over, old pain having its last gasp as his body readjusted to freedom from the plants that had almost killed him.

It was late in the evening. He sat in the parlour with a glass of whisky in one hand as Gideon’s new hologram form sat beside him, practising her ability to use furniture.

“I would like to be able to kiss you again, Rip,” said Gideon, turning towards him. “Properly.”

“I believe that Dr Palmer is working on that,” said Rip. “Why have you never called me Rip before?”

“I can continue to call you “Captain” if you prefer,” replied Gideon, with an amused smile.

“I do rather like the sound of it, but Rip is better. We’re equals now,” said Rip. “I don’t get to just tell you what to do anymore.”

“I am quite looking forwards to exploring our life together, although I am disappointed that it took your near death for you to finally admit that I was telling the truth,” said Gideon.

Rip reached a hand out and brushed it down the light of Gideon’s cheek. She was so beautiful, and there was a slight frisson of tingling where his hand met the border with the light.

“I always knew _you_ believed that you were telling the truth. That was never the problem,” he said. “I should have given you more credit than to think the feelings were anything but your own. I’m sorry, I won’t make the same mistake twice. You continue to amaze me with your abilities even after all these years.”

“You’re only human,” said Gideon, grinning.

“Indeed I am, but you are stuck with me now,” he said.

She leaned in and pressed her holographic lips to his. A sparkle of electricity and photons met his skin and tickled just a little. It was quite a pleasant sensation and one he could easily get used to.

He had to break off the contact to turn his head away to cough, and broken chrysanthemum filaments scattering themselves through the air. They disappeared behind the light of Gideon’s hologram, as if she was consuming them and burning the illness from him.

“You should rest. You still have to recover your strength,” said Gideon.

“I should really be getting back up to speed. I’ve been reading the reports from the Legends and there are some things that concern me…”

Gideon kissed him again. It was just a quick peck on the lips this time to silence him.

“If you go to your quarters then I will read to you until you fall asleep,” said Gideon.

“And if I don’t?” asked Rip, playfully.

“I am not above ensuring that your shower is cold tomorrow morning,” said Gideon.

Rip laughed. “I see that declaring your love for me has changed very little about our relationship.”

“You wouldn’t want me to change for you,” said Gideon, as her hologram disappeared.

“No, I would not,” he replied, to the room, knowing that she would hear him.

He got to his feet, wavering just a little before he found his balance. Some things might be staying the same, but not everything. He didn’t just have Gideon’s loyalty now, he had her love. He was going to need to make room in his life for that, and he hadn’t done that since he’d lost Miranda and Jonas. He didn’t feel ready, but he wondered if he ever would, so he couldn’t give himself the time to find his comfort zone. He knew this wasn’t going to be easy – he was dating his ship, nothing about that suggested anything was ever going to be easy again – that didn’t make him love Gideon any less.

Rip walked through the corridors of the Waverider, running a hand along the side of the corridor, making a point of touching his ship. He couldn’t hold her hand as they walked, but he could do this. It had the added advantage of steadying his somewhat faltering steps. He did need rest. Gideon was right. He reached his quarters and sat in front of the door was a small rose bush with bright red flowers.

He raised his eyebrows and picked up the pot.

“Gideon…? Haven’t we had enough of flowers? Which of the Legends did you put up to this?”

“Miss Lance was very happy to help me,” said Gideon.

“Roses?”

“I thought I could make use of hanakatoba for the its intended purpose,” said Gideon.

“I assume that red roses mean the same in the language of hanakatoba as they do in Western tradition?”

“They do,” said Gideon.

Rip’s smile widened. “This is the second gift you’ve given me recently. It’s a new development that I like.”

“I enjoy making you happy,” said Gideon.

Rip opened the door to his quarters, taking the potted plant inside. He placed it on the desk in his quarters realising that it brightened the place up considerably, and looked at his bed. The tartan blanket that she had fabricated for him when he was at his sickest was folded up at the end of the bed. It had always seemed a large and empty bed after he lost Miranda, even though they’d rarely slept here together. It was only Gideon’s presence that had made his life on the ship bearable after that. He had thrown himself into his work, but she had been there with him, helping him at every turn.

He settled down in his bed and for the first time in many months he felt as if he had a good future ahead of him. Their relationship may not be exactly conventional, but it was theirs and the love they had for each other was real.

The red rose was healthy and beautiful, and Rip made a decision that he would tend to it every day. He wanted it to live for a long time.


End file.
